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80 SHOFAR Winter 1993 Vol. 11, No.2 AMNON My illness is not all pretension. Every time you pass, Tamar, My eyes follow your dark form And my heart jumps from my body. When I am awake, my longing makes me restless And I curse God for placing you Beyond my reach. When I dream, You are embracing me, eager. I draw my hands down to your thighs, As you loosen your long robe. Now I wait for you To bring me my evening meal. In the secrecy of my sickroom, I will at last take my pleasure, Riveting your round body to my sharp need. Janet Ruth Heller ...


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